we've got our obsessions
by martianwitchery
Summary: "You can ignore her hands when you want to, if you want to, but giving in is a choice, a kind of control." [pre-breakup Supermartian]


**(A/N: they had a fight)**

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><p>It's not her hands you can't ignore. It's not as if you don't already know every crease and speckle of her fingers, the frequencies with which they shift, ghosts fluttering in the spaces between them and you—you see them with your eyes closed. You see them now, your eyes closed, your back turned and bared for her to touch, as they touch it. You count <em>one-two-three<em> points of pressure off-center from your spine. _Conner?_ you can hear just in the brushing, the skin running against skin at insignificant degrees.

Sometimes your mind tricks you into thinking you can hear insects' wings.

Her fingers are cold, and she is always trying to warm them; always folding them into other hands, always flicking them against each other. You think she's in it for the friction these days. She blinks like matchsticks, starts fires in her eyes you can't stop. You really can't, and you're starting to sink into that.

You can almost leave it alone. It's not the sharp light running through her body—her veins and sinews twisting into it and holding _power_ in every meaning you can think of deep and tight inside her every cell—that you can't ignore.

Her touch vanishes from your back. You could let her think you're just sound asleep, if you wanted to.

It's the sharp light running through _your_ body that wins. She alone is not everything she is to you. Your love for her is its own separate beast, and the three of you fill the bed in equal allotments: you and she take either edge, and it pours its way out of you—whether she can see it or not—to curl into the middle. Tendrils weave their way into the cracks between your limbs, between your teeth. You let them pull you, gently, slowly turning your body onto its back and your head to the right.

You meet her stare so immediately you don't even see her at first. The mist hanging in her eyes matches the fog in your brain, but even with the room set to artificial moonlight, light chips at the edges of her face. Her lips are dry and so are yours; she runs the tip of her tongue across hers, and that's what make you notice.

_Are you okay? _she mouths, pronouncedly enough for you to read her lips—and she's right, there's no room left for voices right now. Your throat is empty of everything but breath and love. They swirl together in your chest.

You nod despite the pillow only half-under your cheek. Against your ear it sounds like clouds booming with their own weight, threatening to break.

_Are…_**_we _**_okay? _Your eyes start to pick out colors, the red of her elastic mouth against the green of her skin as she stretches out the words. The thing between her and you recedes back into your bones with momentum enough to drag her hand along with it, dropping it off inches before your arm, palm flat against the mattress. You can ignore her hands when you want to, if you want to, but giving in is a choice, a kind of control. You shift onto your right side, and her fingers grip the sheets. You dip her fingers in-between hers, and they release.

_Are you?_ you mouth back, not that she sees. Her head aims for your collarbone, and despite the direction, her breath runs right back up your body after trailing down, hitching a ride on the blood in your veins.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs into your skin. You've heard it a thousand times for a thousand different reasons. You will always believe her, whether it matters or not. You think, right now, that it does.

_I forgive you_ is a step Kaldur never got to before he left, and you don't expect anything he ever does from this point forward to teach you how to say it now. You press your chin into the top of her head and your hand into the small of her back. It only gets smaller. She holds herself against you, all bent edges and smooth curves, and you hold yourself against her, too, straight legs and rocky arms. You pretend it's the same as holding her.


End file.
